Batman: Arkham Beyond
by Theo O'Malley
Summary: Terry McGinnis has grown up hearing stories about Bruce Wayne, aka, the Batman. But the Dark Knight hasn't been seen for 35 years. Terry thinks he must be dead...until a chance meeting with the old caretaker of Arkham Island, and an accidental discovery in the old Asylum. When Terry's father is murdered, he must learn to trust the old man and become a Batman for a new generation.


**35 years ago…**

Bruce glanced out the canopy of the Batwing as it swooped low over Wayne Manor. There were scores of people gathered in front of the gates, and not just reporters either. It seemed half the evacuees from central Gotham had showed up to see the unmasked Batman. He even thought briefly that he recognized the distinctive bald head of Lex Luthor near the front of the crowd, surrounded by cameras. It was almost astonishing how quickly they had all gathered in the wake of his unmasking by Scarecrow.

So much the better. He wanted word of this to spread.

He jumped down from the jet as soon as it touched down, ignoring the camera flashed and the voices practically screaming out his name. He didn't even spare a second glance at the mob.

Before he had even reached the door, it opened. Alfred stood there, surprisingly calm, considering what he knew was about to happen.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Master Bruce?" he asked.

"I've got to," Bruce replied. "It's the only way to protect them."

Alfred gave the smallest of sighs as he closed the door. "Very well."

With not even a second's hesitation, Bruce strode over to the wall, pulled back the grandfather clock, and entered the secret elevator, followed closely by his loyal butler. Even through the reinforced titanium walls, the initial explosion rattled Bruce's teeth. The elevator descended rapidly into the Batcave, and he heard roaring and crashing above them as secondary explosions consumed what remained of the centuries-old manor.

People would speculate, of course. The list of suspects would include every criminal in Gotham, and then some. But he had faith that Jim Gordon would ensure the case was dropped as quickly as possible.

"Sir," said Alfred, breaking the silence as they stepped out, "what if they discover the Batcave?"

"Clark is taking care of that first thing tomorrow," Bruce replied, stripping off the battered remains of his armor and changing into a pair of jeans and a hoodie. "By midday, this will just be a cave."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "So Mr. Kent-"

"-knows what he needs to know. And he knows not to ask too many questions. It's not as though I would have been be able to hide from him for long anyway."

Alfred nodded. "As you say, sir."

Bruce sat down by a small mirror and got to work on his makeup. He didn't need much; just some streaks of grey in his hair, a few extra lines around his eyes, and a jagged scar across his nose and cheek. A single distracting feature. It was a trick he had learned early in his career.

At last he stood and turned to Alfred. "Everything has been set up. I've hacked DMV and Police records and put the BMW in the name of your new alias just in case. Take it to Metropolis International. The plane will fly you from there to England. I've got a house in the country set up for you, and-" He stopped, as he noticed, for the first time he could remember, tears shining in Alfred's eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir," Alfred said in a quavering voice. "It's just…I've raised you since you were eight years old. And I-"

Bruce laid a hand on the shoulder of the man who had been as good as a father to him. "I know, Alfred. But I have to disappear from everyone… Even you. It's the only way I know you'll be safe."

The old butler wiped his eyes. "Yes, Master Bruce. I…I shall miss you, sir. And I am…so very proud of you."

Bruce, for once, smiled warmly. "Goodbye, Alfred."

 **20 years ago…**

The night was bright as Warren and Mary McGinnis stepped out of the Monarch Theatre. But then, it was always bright in Gotham. Neon signs and billboards littered the sides of every building, advertising everything from Soder Cola Quantum, to the new Queen Motors Dart, to the opening of the new musical, Batman: I Am the Night. However these were all outnumbered by signs reading "Wayne-Powers Industries."

With a routineness born of much practice, Warren reached out and gently grabbed the shoulder of his eight year-old son, as the boy darted out, pantomiming a pair of handguns and making "Bang!" sounds.

Terry mock-glared up at his father. "Unhand me, villain! I am the Ghost in Grey, scourge of all criminals!"

Mary chuckled. "Well, 'scourge of all criminals', it's nearly past your bedtime."

Warren yawned. "It's nearly past mine too. Powers wants me in early to start work on the new holophone prototype. Time to go home."

Terry pouted. "But I wanted ice cream."

"No more sugar, young man," said Mary, "or you'll be awake all night. Warren, where did we park?"

The man glanced around. "Hmm. Oh right, it's this way." The parking deck stood only a few blocks away. One of the advantages Warren enjoyed as an employee of Wayne-Powers Industries was the ability to park in the many employees-only decks littered throughout the city which the gargantuan tech company practically owned. But since the deck was private, it was nearly deserted when they arrived.

Terry saw him first.

A man stepped out from behind a pillar and stood in their path. His face was invisible beneath the blood red hoodie he wore.

Warren stepped protectively in front of his family, backing them against the glass wall of the deck. "What do you want?" he asked loudly.

The man regarded him for a moment. Almost too fast to see, he whipped out a handgun and fired it in the same motion. Warren gasped and collapsed to the ground, a ragged hole in his chest. Mary screamed in horror.

Terry stood, agape. His father gasped for breath at his feet.

The hooded man stepped forward and pointed his gun at Mary, but he looked at Terry. "Sorry, kid. I know it seems like your world is over, but one day, I hope you'll understand."

As if in slow motion, Terry saw the man's finger start to tighten on the trigger. But then, the glass wall behind him exploded. A flash of yellow and red flew right over his head and slammed feet first into the hooded man, who rolled backwards and sprang nimbly to his feet, pulling a second handgun from his coat. Terry's savior spun a long staff, out of the sides of which came a shield which blocked the hail of bullets. Terry heard another crash, and he realized that the hooded man had shot out another glass wall and had jumped.

Robin, for Terry knew now that's who he was, tapped his ear. "Oracle, he ran for it. See if you can track him." He turned and knelt by Warren, who had fallen nearly unconscious, but was still trying to breathe. He looked up at Mary. "Listen to me very carefully. The ambulance is on its way, but you need to keep pressure on your husband's wounds." He ripped off a chunk of his cape, grabbed Mary's hands and pressed them and the cloth against the wound. He looked down at Terry. "What's your name?"

"T-Terry. Terry McGinnis."

"Okay Terry, I need to go hunt down the monster who did this. Just be brave for your mom, okay?"

"B-But I…"

"Don't worry. I'll find him. I promise."

Terry nodded and placed a hand on his mother's shoulder. Without another word, Robin turned, ran, and leapt from the same hole the hooded man had created as the sound of sirens drew closer.

###

Hours later, the hooded man stepped off the motorcycle. He had evaded Robin finally, but he knew he was late for the meeting.

Lightning flashed and illuminated a badly gratified sign, under which could barely be read the words 'Arkham Asylum, .5 miles. Hitchhikers may be escaping patients.' In the distance, he could only just see the top of the old, broken clocktower above the trees.

"Is it done?"

To his credit, the hooded man didn't jump at the sound of the voice from behind him. His business partner stood under a tree, concealed in shadow. He knew that his partner was aware of what had happened, but he answered anyway. "No. Robin showed up before I could finish the job."

There was a long pause. "That is…unfortunate. If the boy is to become-"

"- _IF_ he is," the hooded man cut in, "then you'll have to find someone else. I'm done doing your dirty work."

"Feeling guilty about nearly taking a life?" His partner's head cocked to the side. "No…that's not it. You failed on purpose. You tipped Robin off anonymously." He didn't bother denying the accusation. But the voice laughed. "How noble. How very unlike you…Jason."

Jason Todd gritted his teeth, the J-shaped scar whitening against his cheek. "You knew I had abandoned that life when you contacted me."

"But you know how important our work is. We agreed. The world needs Batman. Why did you agree to this in the first place?"

Jason's anger abated and he sighed. "I wanted to stop you. Now you can't make it look like a random happenstance. But more than that, I want you to understand that Batman can't be created. He needs to be born. If the kid is going to become Batman, then he needs to get there on his own. You can't push him. And if you try…" Jason pointed his gun at the shadow.

The voice chuckled. "Put that away. I'll make no move against the boy or his family. It wouldn't matter now anyway. I'll uphold _my_ end of the contract, at least. The money will be in your account by morning."

Jason pulled on a helmet. "Keep it. I don't want it." The tires on his bike squealed and he sped off.

Lightning flashed again over Arkham Asylum.

A storm was coming.


End file.
